In The End
by jkdg3461
Summary: PostOotP. Harry loves Draco, Draco loves Harry... But there is an oh so strange mark on Draco's left arm, and Snape is letting his feminine side free 'Yes, Draco, this is a tutu' , and he has ulterior motives involving the Dark Lord.
1. An Unexpected Kiss

**IN THE END**

**Set:** post-OotP, pre-HBP

**Warning:** the angst monster attacked me. He held his angsty little gun to my happy little head and said to me (I imagine the angst monster to have a Scottish accent), "F'you ever wan' to wri'e a happy story again, you will gi'e t'me one angs'y story, or th'happiness is go'e. Jus' like tha'."

How could I possibly refuse (especially when he had such a cute accent)? So, I said yes. And here's the result. Because y'don't double-cross th'angs' monster and c'mou' alive, baby.

**Another warning:** There is also a bit of fluff. Oh, and snogging. But it's mainly angst. And lots of character death.

**A/N:** Obsessed? With Harry/Draco Slash? Who, me? _Never_!

**ifyouwannaimight**

He was late for class again. Harry sprinted through the hidden corridors of Hogwarts, hoping against all hopes that Snape was lying dead in a hallway somewhere with the Dark Mark over him. He didn't think that he could cope with another public humiliation at the hands of his Potions Master, on top of all that'd happened this week.

He couldn't deal with this anymore; he couldn't keep his mask of pretence and lies any longer. He was thankful for the emptiness of the main corridors; that way, nobody could see the tears that threatened to fall at any moment.

He threw himself through a particularly ugly tapestry that concealed the passage and found himself nose-to-nose with Malfoy. It was just his beastly luck striking again; actually, it seemed like Malfoy had been waiting for him. Harry whirled round, backed himself up a few steps (away from Malfoy) and drew his wand. Malfoy did the same; twirling the wood lazily between his fingers.

"Why aren't you in class, Potter?"

"I could ask the same of you, Malfoy. Just because you're a prefect, and Snape's favorite, doesn't give you the right to miss Potions."

The blonde tilted his head and smirked at the Gryffindor. Tardiness forgotten, Harry felt a tiny twinge in his heart, like Malfoy had just cast a minor hex on him or something. _What the hell?_

"Now, now, Potter, I'd hate to dock points…" he turned to better show off his green-and-silver Prefect badge. Harry longed to rip that stupid badge off his robes and lob it at his head. _Or just rip off his robes completely and…_

"You can't dock points: you, unlike me, are a –"

"Yes, _git_, I know. Think up something new for a change, will you?"

Harry had a sudden fleeting, but highly inappropriate, vision of himself jumping forward and kissing that sneering mouth: arms flailing, hands grasping at robes, welcoming, responsive lips… Harry suddenly hoped that a) Draco Malfoy wasn't a skilled Legilimens (as far as Harry knew, Malfoy couldn't read his mind, but you never really know…), and b) that he himself wasn't a Seer like Professor Trelawney. Though that wouldn't be so bad…

It was strange how some feelings could change so quickly; one second he hated Malfoy, the next he wanted to snog him senseless. It was rather weird, but perfectly understandable; half the girls in the school would sell their appendages for a chance to kiss him. Minus the hating bit, of course. Malfoy smiled; a real smile, unlike those manufactured smirks Harry was usually the recipient of.

"What?" Harry snapped. When Malfoy smiled like that, it was never a good thing. For one thing, it was really bad for his hormones.

"I've finally rendered the Boy Who Won't Shut Up completely speechless," Malfoy said triumphantly.

"Oh, hush up, would you?" Harry hissed.

"And what if I won't?" Draco retorted. "You can't do magic in the hallways."

Harry sighed, "Number one, Malfoy: since when do I care about rules?" Draco arched an eyebrow. He continued, "And number two: if you don't shut up, I might have to do something we both might regret."

"Oh?" Draco replied, tightening the grip on his wand. "And what did you have in mind, exactly?"

Before he could stop himself, Harry leapt forward so that they were nose to nose.

"Well, Malfoy," he whispered huskily. "I might just have to do this."

And, ignoring the fact that Draco's wand was pressing uncomfortably into his chest (or _was_ it his wand?), Harry leaned forward and kissed him. And it was better than he'd thought it would be. Because it was actually happening. And Draco was responding like he should respond. And Harry was speechless.

**ifyouwannaimight**

**(A/N: And I really should stop writing in such disjointed sentences. And, also, I should never put an A/N in the middle of a story ever again. It's bad. Smacks head on desk_ Bad Trisha, wicked Trisha! _Geez, I'm beginning to sound like Dobby. I should just shut up now, you know. So I will. Now, back to the story…)**

**ifyouwannaimight**

But it was okay, because there was no need for words anyway. Not even in his wildest dreams had anything like this ever happened. They had never kissed in the middle of a deserted hallway, certainly. It was usually somewhere like the Astronomy Tower (terribly overrated, in Harry's opinion, anyway) or in his own dorm room (because his room-mates wouldn't kill him too much for letting a Slytherin in, let alone for snogging him… ha).

He felt Malfoy remove his wand from where it was pointedly pressing into his chest. Yes, he was pretty sure it was his wand. Malfoy slid his arms out from where they'd been wrapped around Harry, under his robes. He gently pulled away and brushed his thumb against Harry's jaw. Harry couldn't see anything anymore – everything was blurry.

He reached down to find his glasses tucked into the back pocket of his trousers. He didn't know how they'd ended up there – he supposed Malfoy had put them there whilst providing a distraction in the form of a mind-blowing kiss.

"Potter," Malfoy whispered. He moved his fingers up Harry's face to lightly brush his lightning-bolt scar.

"You'd think," Harry said loudly, trying to stop his voice from shaking. The places where Malfoy had touched him tingled a little bit. "You'd think that after that, you'd at least call me by my first name."

"Harry, then," Malfoy whispered, surprising them both.

"Well," Harry said, replacing his glasses on his nose, now trying to hide the smile that threatened to burst forth at any moment – and, knowing him, it would be one of those ridiculous dopey smiles that girls fell over themselves about. "We'd best get to Potions, hadn't we?"

There was almost a spring in his step as he went down the stairs to class. Malfoy's face was unsmiling and his stride so ordinary that for a second Harry thought that he'd imagined everything that'd just taken place.

He considered going to Filch to have some sense smacked into him via a very drunken beating with a cactus – he was sure that the caretaker would gladly fight Snape for the honor. Then he realized how he was feeling – the lightness in his step, the giant smile on his face, the way his heart thumped almost painfully in his chest – could not have been caused by his thoughts: not even his boundless imagination was good enough to make him feel like _that_.

**ifyouwannaimight**


	2. Trepidation

**CHAPTER TWO  
The denouement...**

**A/N:** I might've failed to mention that this entire fic is dedicated to the only, the only, the one and only SHEALTIEL. Now, do you see what happens when you make a dare?

**yousaidforeverandever**

To Harry's chagrin, Snape was one hundred percent healthy (if you could call it that, seeing as he lived in the dark) and more than willing to dock points from Gryffindor until their score went into negatives.

But when Malfoy (_Draco_, Harry reminded himself. _His name is Draco_) had followed him into the room, the strangest thing happened: a huge grin spread on Snape's face.

Harry hoped desperately that the Potions Master would never smile like that again – his crooked yellow teeth were not a lovely sight to behold, and they contrasted quite nastily with his greasy black hair. Moreover, didn't he look bad enough to begin with?

"Come see me after class, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, managing to suppress his grin, receiving sighs of relief from his students. "Also, twenty points to Slytherin."

Ignoring Ron's curious glances, Harry sank into his chair, deep in thought. What gave Draco the right to make him feel this way? Ever since they'd first met in Madam Malkin's Robe Shop, he'd felt intrigued by the strange, arrogant, pale boy wearing the expensive robes.

Now, five years later, what had changed? They'd never gotten any closer to even the barest of civility: it was always 'ferret' this and 'Scarhead' that. Then all of a sudden, _this_ had happened.

What actually _had_ happened? Was it just a kiss? Did Malfoy enjoy it as much as he did? As Potions finished and he packed up his books, Harry risked a glance back at Malfoy. He had a tiny, serene smile on his face. Was it all really just a random snog in the hallway?

Harry only knew one thing for sure: if _just a kiss_ made him feel like this – like his stomach was fizzing and his intestines were partying – he hadn't any idea what true love would feel like.

**yousaidforeverandever**

"Potter?" Snape hissed, the contempt in his voice mingling with an awkward sort of pleasure. He was proud of Draco.

"Potter," Draco confirmed unsmilingly.

"You know what to do," Snape said, getting out of his chair and pushing his seat under his desk.

"Yes, sir," Draco said.

"I'm proud of you, Draco."

Draco already knew that Severus was proud of him – he was just surprised that he'd admitted it aloud.

"Thank you, sir," Draco said quietly. "I won't disappoint you."

**yousaidforeverandever**


	3. None Too Soon

The next few days were a blur of covert little glances during classes and meals. They would glance awkwardly at each other from time to time, every time looking away when the other met his gaze. Every time this happened (which, admittedly, was a lot), Harry wondered what Draco was thinking when he looked at him.

He couldn't tell anyone what was going on because he didn't even really know what was going on, and, besides, he knew what their reactions would be anyway.

Dumbledore would tell him to end it immediately. Hermione would look worried, tell him to be careful, and then read up on gay wizarding relationships to show Harry how badly they could end. Ron would be worried for a different reason, and his response would be a mixture of "Why _Malfoy_?" and "I knew you were gay, mate, I just didn't want to say anything!"

Professor Snape… _Wait, where did he come from?_ Harry wondered. _Why am I worried about Snape's reaction?_

Draco, meanwhile, on the other side of the Great Hall, was wondering how his father's friends found out so quickly. They hadn't found out about the _snogging_, of course, or how much Draco had secretly enjoyed it (he'd had to take extra long in the showers that morning with a _Silencio_ charm), but they _had_ found out that he was onto Potter.

Their altercations soon changed from "My dad is rich, your dad is dead / At least my father didn't dress like a homosexual pimp" to meaningful looks and secret desires that neither of them wanted to pursue: not yet, anyway.

**sometimesiwishitwasyou**

Snape had done five complicated spells to Draco's room, a single, the first involving ground hog's boar and the last involving Snape wearing a pink tutu over his stained black robes. (Draco didn't see why the tutu was necessary; he just supposed that Snape wore it for fun. It was rather disturbing.)

The five spells allowed anyone to Apparate or Disapparate from Draco's room (good if a quick exit was needed), but, most importantly, it allowed Portkeys to work from inside Hogwarts. This was the most important part of the plan: make the damn Portkey work.

Even though he knew that people could Apparate or Disapparate from his room, he still got a shock whenever Snape or his father appeared out of thin air with a loud _pop_ – especially if Snape was wearing that tutu again.

It was strange how Snape had given him the Portkey in front of the entire school, not caring who saw. It was such an ordinary object, but, held by the right person; it would send them straight to… Well, Draco didn't know. He supposed it was somewhere nasty, considering that he was supposed to give it to Harry.

That was the only problem: getting Harry into his room.

Draco had considered drugging his drink, but, in light of _certain_ recent events, he supposed it wouldn't be too hard to get him there anymore.


	4. A Consequential Altercation

And he was right: within a couple of days, he'd run into Harry in a deserted corridor again. Insults dissolved into whispers, and eventually whispers turned into passionate kissing. As they say, one thing led to the next, and Draco was practically _carrying_ Harry into his bedroom. It was all too easy.

**kissmekillme**

They collapsed on the floor, and Harry desperately tore at Draco's robes. He nearly had them off when he saw a flash of green ink on Draco's left arm.

He grabbed Draco's wrist, twisting it around so that the blonde boy gasped in pain and his eyes shot open. When he saw what Harry was looking at, his face went blank and his eyes filled with something that Harry had never seen before. It was a mixture of regret and repulsion. Repulsion at what they had almost done. Was that regret there, shadowing the grey, because they had only _almost_ done it?

"You actually thought you were worth something to me?" Draco hissed, pulling his arm out of Harry's death-grip. His Dark Mark rippled on his arm as he turned it this way and that, admiring it, or perhaps staring at it in repulsion: an ugly blemish on his otherwise perfect skin.

"But… Draco…" he whispered hoarsely, green eyes pleading. Draco's stormy grey eyes showed indifference.

"Look at the great Harry Potter now," he sneered. "Would you believe that my mission was to deliver you to the Dark Lord?"

Harry's mouth hung open. "But… Malfoy?"

"Don't shame me any more by using my family name," Draco said, leaning over and snatching up his robes from the floor. He pulled his wand from a side pocket and pointed it at Harry's forehead.

"_Obliviate_!" he cried: the only endearment he was capable of. A thin jet of light shot out from the end of his wand and hit Harry on his scar – the scar left by his nemesis, Draco's Master.

How he resented Voldemort – for killing his parents, for attempting Harry's murder numerous times, and now for claiming Draco before Harry could. Harry was pondering whether to be thankful to Voldemort or to hate him even more – it was, after all, Voldemort's fault that memory spells would never work on him. He jumped when he felt Draco's hand in his, pressing something small and hard into his palm.

"Goodbye, Harry," Draco whispered, and Harry felt that familiar sensation of a hook through his navel as blackness closed in around him and he looked down at the object in his hand – Draco's green-and-silver Prefect badge – and hated it even more as he realized what it was: a Portkey.

_Kiss me, kill me: your kiss is torture, but killing me would be too easy…_


	5. Nothing Really Matters

"He has succeeded," a deep, reverberating voice boomed. "I thought he would fail. Malfoys are generally slaves to their own hearts, but I see that he is not."

"Master…" a small voice protested feebly. "I knew my son would succeed, he is so unlike…"

"SILENCE!" the voice shrieked, and the protestor shut his mouth rather quickly. "When I want your opinion, Lucius, I shall beat it out of you."

"Yes, Master," Lucius said.

"You know what to do," the deep voice said, looking at the man next to Lucius.

"Yes, Master," he replied, his voice shaking under the visage of calm.

"But… Master, surely that is not… Necessary…" Lucius said softly. Angry red eyes turned to him.

"Did I say it was necessary, Lucius?" his voice was dangerously soft; belying the rage that quaked at his core.

"Y-yes… Master… But…"

"And if I said it was necessary, it must be necessary, correct, Lucius?"

"I… Yes…"

"Then I'm glad we've reached an understanding. _Cruciatus_!"

While Lucius writhed on the cold stone floor in pain, the Dark Lord waved a careless hand at the second man, saying, "Go now."

"Yes, my Master."

With a soft _pop_ and a swirl of black robes, the man was gone, sent to finish the task once and for all.

**iputmytrustinyou**

Harry's last memory before he was surrounded by jeering Death Eaters was Draco leaning forward and kissing him lightly on the forehead, regret and tears in his eyes, a small sweaty hand squeezing his tightly, as if that one touch could keep them together. Then there was pain; sudden jolting pain, laughter in the background, and Harry could feel no more.

_I kept everything inside and, even though I tried, it all fell apart. _

_What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time _

_When I tried so hard, and got so far… But, in the end, it doesn't even matter._

**iputmytrustinyou**


	6. Kiss Me, Kill Me

"_I am no slave to my own heart, Father."_

"_He will kill us all if you do not succeed."_

"_Why do you underestimate me? I will succeed, even if it kills me."_

"_I hold you to your word, Draco. You must not let weakness stand in the way of victory. There is no right and wrong…"_

"…_Only power, and those too weak to seek it. Father, I _know_. Have we not studied this day and night?"_

"_There is no such thing as knowing the plan too well. You should know that."_

"_I do, Father, I do."_

"_The Mark on your arm is proof that you are not too weak to seek power. Is that not what you want: unfathomable power, glory beyond understanding?"_

"_I am not weak, Father."_

"_Dumbledore is too weak to seek power. We are not. If only he had turned to the Dark long ago…"_

**your.eyes.unwind.the.tragedy.of.our.lives**

"Harry! I'm sorry!" Draco cried, staring at his hand, clutched around thin air. But it was too late; Harry was gone.

So it was that Harry didn't see Draco collapse against the wall in a sobbing heap, whispering, "I'm not weak."

Nor did Draco see Snape Apparate behind him, his wand arm shaking, and the killing curse on the tip of his tongue: as the green light of _Avada Kedavra_ filled the room, illuminating the tears on both of their faces, a solitary Dark Mark, shining green, slipped from the end of Snape's wand and rose into the air. Ah. Typical.

Snape pocketed his wand, Draco's last words tumbling through his mind over and over again like a mantra: "But I loved him."

_In the end, everyone does what they promised never to do, and everyone becomes what they swore never to be._

**your.eyes.unwind.the.tragedy.of.our.lives**


End file.
